United States or Jersey ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Yes, you sent him, an' I waited fer him. The day he come out I married him. We had to dig hard. I'd do it ag'in. Now his boy's saved yer girl's life to pay ye fer puttin' his father'n State's pris'n. Two year ago didn't Bill Porter sick an' a-dyin' hunt till he foun' me here? Didn't he go an' swear? Done fer spite. Didn't he sen' me the affydavy? an' I've got it safe.
An' if they're none o' them doin' jest so well as they might, there's none o' them been in pris'n yet, an' that's a comfort as long as it lasts.
If you don't like the pris'n, I have a nice little room o' my own, sir, where you can wait, for a small consideration, until you get bail." "I'll go there, then," said Tom. "Go through as private streets as you can." "Give me half-a-guinea for my trouble, sir, and I'll ambulate you through lanes every fut o' the way." "Very well," said Tom.
You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time, that he did, the heathen. The gentleman catched him i' th' fact, and we shut him up for safety i' that pris'n. But," said the fellow, with a laugh, "he soon contrived to make his way out on it, though.
"Ah! no, mawsteh, you cyan' do dat! It's ag'in' de law! I's 'bleeged to have my trial, yit. Oh, no, no! Oh, good God, no! Even if I is a nigga! You cyan' jis' murdeh me hyeh in de woods! Mo dis la zize! I tell de judge on you! You ain' got no mo' biznis to do me so 'an if I was a white 'oman! You dassent tek a white 'oman out'n de Pa'sh Pris'n an' do 'er so! Oh, sweet mawsteh, fo' de love o' God! Oh, Mawse Challie, pou' l'amou' du bon Dieu n'fé pas ça! Oh, Mawse 'Polyte, is you gwan to let 'em kill ole Clemence? Oh, fo' de mussy o' Jesus Christ, Mawse 'Polyte, leas' of all, you! You dassent help to kill me, Mawse 'Polyte! You knows why! Oh God, Mawse 'Polyte, you knows why! Leas' of all you, Mawse 'Polyte! Oh, God 'a' mussy on my wicked ole soul! I aint fitt'n to die! Oh, gen'lemen, I kyan' look God in de face! Oh, Michés, ayez pitié de moin! Oh, God A'mighty ha' mussy on my soul! Oh, gen'lemen, dough yo' kinfolks kyvvah up yo' tricks now, dey'll dwap f'um undeh you some day! Solé levé l
"Once in this chair, yer hon'r, and I'll warrant he'll not get out so aisily as Jack Sheppard did from the New Pris'n." "Hold your tongue, sirrah," rejoined Shotbolt, not over-pleased by the remark, "and mind what I tell you. Ah! what's that?" he exclaimed, as some one brushed hastily past him. "If I hadn't just left him, I could have sworn it was Mrs. Spurling's sooty imp, Caliban."
"Ah, Slidder!" said I, in a kind but serious tone, "doubtless you can, but begging or borrowing are not likely to succeed, and stealing is wrong." "D'you think so?" returned the boy, with a look of innocent surprise. "Don't you think, now, that in a good cause a cove might: "`Take wot isn't his'n, An' risk his bein' sent to pris'n?"
An' Grumpy he goes ragin' about the house sayin' he'll have nothin' to do wi' the poor little thing who's not so little naither, bein' a ten-year-old if she's an hour, an' a purty sweet face to boot an' that he'll send her to the workus' or pris'n, or anywhere; but in his house she's not to stop another day.
Word Of The Day